


Being Accused of Treachery is No Reason to Not Have a Satisfying Night

by GayWhiteBoy



Category: Original Work
Genre: Anal Sex, Exhibitionism, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Overstimulation, Porn With Plot, Semi-Public Sex, Sex Toys, a bit of blood, although its really plot with porn, an idiot who is perfectly willing to risk his boyfriends life for the sake of making him cum, its not kinky tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:20:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27351865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GayWhiteBoy/pseuds/GayWhiteBoy
Summary: In which two idiots fuck, commit treason, and then fuck some more.orA fic I wrote because I had one funny thought and decided it was worth 2000 wordsorA fic written between the hours of 1 and 4am, because sleep is overrated I guess
Comments: 4
Kudos: 13





	Being Accused of Treachery is No Reason to Not Have a Satisfying Night

Life, Lensan thought, had been going pretty well for him recently. Sure, he was living through a war, and technically he had been captured by the enemy, but that was nothing major. After all, he got to eat the best rations rank could buy, slept in a big comfortable bed, and was currently being fucked into said bed by his boyfriend/mentor/sworn enemy. Lensan definitely knew others who had it worse.

His musings were interrupted when Aleros changed his angle, going deeper and grinding sharply against that spot. 

“Your mind is elsewhere,” Aleros accused, running his thumb across the shell of Lensan’s ear, “Am I boring you?”

“Just thinking about how much I love you,” Lensan not-quite-lied.

“Prove it to me then.” Aleros leaned down and turned the smaller boy's head to bring their lips together, kissing deeply and roughly pounding him into the silken sheets.

“Close,” Lensan gasped after a while, hoping he would actually get to come today. As much as he enjoyed their game, five days was a lot for a boy his age to wait. He heard his partner open his mouth to say something, but it was cut off when the door was suddenly kicked in by an important-looking man in reflective armor. Lensan would have paid more attention to what the man was saying had Aleros not chosen that moment in particular to nail his prostate dead-on, leaving him cumming on the sheets and whiting out for what couldn’t have been more than a few seconds.

When he came back to, the other man was gone and Aleros had completely lost his rhythm, a sign that he was just about to cum. With two short thrusts and a groan, he did just that, spilling himself as deep into Lensan as he could, collapsing on top of the younger boy. Lensan lightly bucked back into him, silently requesting more, but Aleros only sighed. 

“Later, Spark,” he said, drawing himself back up and out of Lensan, “For now we need to see the council.”

“Why?” It was late, and they shouldn’t have duties until morning. 

“Because Tiretius seems to think you’re some kind of mage, and has demanded you stand trial,” Aleros replied, stepping off the bed.

Lensan didn’t move from his position on his hands and knees, instead following Aleros with his eyes as he processed that. He hadn’t heard that name before, but it was clear from the way Aleros said his name that they weren’t friends. “What are we gonna do?” 

Aleros had moved to his desk, and was rummaging through a drawer. “We go to the council, prove you’re not a mage, and then we come back here and make up for all the orgasms you’ve missed this week,” He said confidently, not at all daunted by the fact that Lensan was, actually, a mage. He found what he appeared to be looking for, and moved back to Lensan. “I’m going to put this inside of you,” Aleros said, showing the object to Lensan. 

It was a small, oblong object with a wide flat base, made out of a polished crystal he recognized as quartz. A buttplug, Lensan realized belatedly. It was a buttplug made out of quartz. “Why?” he asked for the second time that night, blaming that incredible orgasm for his lack of verbosity. 

“Because you’ve been accused of being a mage, and we need to get you off,” Aleros said simply, gently inserting the toy as he did. It was smaller than he was, so it went in without difficulty, but Lensan still flinched at the cold crystal, especially when he felt it brush his prostate. “Now put on your pants and let's not keep the important men waiting,” Aleros grumbled, his seriousness indicated by the fact that he was telling Lensan to put on pants. 

He was hard again by the time he managed to clothe himself adequately, though Aleros pretended not to notice as he opened the door. Lensan obediently followed him out, staying two steps behind and slightly to the right, but staying in step; a rhythm that was almost second nature by now. They were met by two scowling knights alongside Tiretius, who gave them nothing more than an impatient glare before turning on his heel and marching down the corridor. 

The party was silent on the way through the keep, tension radiating from the knights and a very different tension coming from Lensan. Aleros was the only one who appeared outwardly calm, but Lensan knew he was deep in thought. About what, he could only guess, but he trusted his partner to have a plan.

Tiretius knocked sharply on the large wooden doors to the council chamber, unadorned save for the slightly sturdier hinges on the edge. His two flanking knights took positions on either side before a voice rang out in Pymerian, a single short syllable whose meaning was clear even to Lensan. Tiretius pushed open the doors, marching in with an air of authority only carried by people who weren’t confident in their authority. A quick glare preempted any attempt by the guards to stop Aleros from following him, motioning Lensan to do the same.

The council room was large, empty along the walls save for torches and stonework. Roughly in the center of the room, five chairs were arranged in a loose semicircle, each containing a stately looking figure in robes, all bearing the scars of war. In front of them were two low benches, with a small circular depression between those and the council chairs. Tiretius took a position in front of the right bench, while Aleros took the left one, silently motioning Lensan towards the depression. He knelt there because if felt right, immediately regretting it when the plug pressed against him far too pleasantly. 

Tiretius cleared his throat and addressed the assembled elders, “Wise council—”

“Tiret here is convinced that my bed-servant is a mage," Aleros interrupted, evidently not wanting to listen to Tiretius’ planned diatribe, "Based on flimsy evidence and half-thought out theories. He is not, and a simple test will prove that.” Lensan struggled to contain a giggle as he watched the veins in the flabbergasted knight’s neck visibly bulge. He did not, however, understand why Aleros was pushing for the test. He himself had administered the test on Lensan previously, and watched it prove his mage status. He kept his worries to himself though, and turned towards the man in the center of the council as he cleared his throat to speak. 

“Do not speak out of turn, boy. Do not think your position grants you freedom to step over other ranking officers.”

Aleros bowed his head in deference. “Apologies, wise one.”

Satisfied, the man who appeared to be the lead councilman continued, “However, you are correct. The test is infallible. It shall be administered and a ruling shall be given.” He motioned behind him, and a figure clad entirely in red flowing cloth that covered even her face stepped out from the shadows carrying a tray bearing a wicked-looking knife and a small purple crystal Lensan knew to be Magricite; the tools of the test. Seeing those instruments brought back dark memories of when he still lived with his family, and the anguish on their faces when a very similar crystal turned a dark maroon and he was dragged away from them. 

A slight tug in the back of his mind pulled him from his thoughts, and he glanced back at Aleros, who gave him a clandestine smile. Lensan felt the gentle nudge of another consciousness he had learned to recognize as another mage acting though him, and he unconsciously relaxed. While the first times this had been done to him he fought it, when Aleros did it it was calming, almost as nice as his embrace. Those pleasant feelings almost led him to miss the strange tingling sensation he started to feel just beneath his skin. It was a spell, clearly, and Aleros was casting it, but Lensan couldn’t imagine what he could possibly do here that would help. Jetting fire from his hands wouldn’t exactly help his “I’m not a mage” case. 

However, instead of the normal flow of magic he felt every time he’d cast a spell before, his magic instead seemed to be pooling in one part of him. Before he could figure out where exactly his magic was going, he realized his plug was suddenly noticeably hot, and vibrating right against his prostate. Lensan closed his eyes and desperately bit back a moan, losing himself to the sudden pleasure. He realized belatedly that he was being addressed, and looked dumbly up at the figure in red who was now standing imperiously over him. 

“He can’t understand you,” Aleros called out, saving Lensan from asking a third stupid question, and marking the first time in Lensan’s life that he was grateful to have been addressed in Pymerian. 

“Hold up your right arm, palm outstretched and facing your left,” the figure repeated, this time in common, with obvious exasperation.

Lensan did as he was commanded, closing his eyes as he felt the blade cut up along his palm. More blood than he felt was strictly necessary was allowed to drip into the tray that was being held below his arm before the woman withdrew the knife. A moment later, he felt an unfamiliar magic touch against his palm, healing the cut, poorly. All attention—save for the chunk of his that was devoted to not cumming his brains out in court—turned towards the Magricite the woman now touched against his pooled blood. When nothing happened for several seconds, she withdrew the stone, paused, then dipped it back into the blood. After the third repetition she declared, “There is no magic in his blood. This boy is not a mage.” 

The Council looked thoughtful, while Tiretius gaped in disbelief. “There has been some kind of mistake, they must have cheated, I know this cretin is magescum and I will prov-” He sputtered, cutting himself off at a silencing look from the councilwoman right of the leader. 

“The test is infallible,” the center councilman repeated, “And our judgement on this matter is final. Lensan, bed-servant of Mage-General Aleros, has not a drop of magic within him. Do not bring this matter to our attention again, Master Hunter Tiretius.”

Tiretius looked like he’d just been told to swallow a cat. He waited for several moments, opening and closing his mouth purposefully. Finally, he turned on his heel and stormed off, seeming the second of his two modes of locomotion. Lensan remained kneeling, outwardly seeming to wait for a command from his master, but really not trusting himself not to blow his load as soon as he moved. 

At a call from Aleros however, he could stall no longer and gingerly rose to his feet, shifting his back as little as possible and thankfully easing the pressure just a bit. He stepped gingerly out of the chamber, unable to keep step. He hoped the council would assume that was nerves. He made it out without making a mess of his pants and realized the guards were already gone a second before Aleros pushed him against the adjacent wall and kissed him hard. That was more than enough for Lensan, who promptly came even harder than before, firing several shots into the tightness of his pants. 

Aleros simply kept kissing him while he slid a hand underneath his waistband, jerking his still-hard cock quickly. Lensan lost count of how many times he came, didn’t even notice when they teleported back into Aleros’ room, and only moaned appreciatively when Aleros slid the vibrating plug out and replaced it with his dick. He passed out somewhere after the eighth orgasm of the night, sleeping happily with Aleros’ cock pounding in and out of his dreams.


End file.
